


Vehement desire

by Nikkitosa



Category: Immortals (2011)
Genre: F/M, Zeus/OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:24:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3988153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikkitosa/pseuds/Nikkitosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's funny how instead of sitting in Death's feet, all transparent and practically dead, a young woman receives a gift she never asked for and meets 'people' she has only read about in books. And to make things sweeter, alongside her newly appeared gifts, a very persistent enemy appears. The final countdown has begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Oracle of Zeus

Usually when you get shot, not once but twice! mind you, it’s somewhat expected of you do die, or probably have the decency to fall into a coma or something. Or least that’s what I had always imagined it to be, mostly praying that if one day someone decides to turn me into a heap of Swiss cheese, I’ll have the prudence to die fast and, if possible, in less pain. But that didn’t happen. Not even damn close!  
I managed to get shot, the reason for which is still a mystery for me by the way, and skipped the whole death’s breath or coma stuff. Instead I woke up as fresh as a daisy in the spring with only a few stiches, no organs harmed and pretty much ready to leave. Cool, right? Wrong! Because, as usual, there was a freaking catch alongside my miraculous survival. And that was waking up as a freaking oracle!!! Like, yeah, why not? It’s not like my life isn’t a mess without the whole visions-out-of-the-blue thing. Yeah…. totally. 

It was a mortifying shock for me to come in terms with the whole aspect of seeing the future. But somehow, and I emphasis on somehow, everything I needed to know came to me. Just like that. Boom! Now I know most of the things I’m supposed to know. Like never, under any circumstances, let yourself be raped. As if I’d have a choice! It turned out that what the film industry taught us – the oracles must stay virgins unless they want to lose their gift, is a big pile of lies. Actually most of what we believe, concerning mythology and so on, is nonsense. For example – the purity thing. Yes, you should not be tainted in any way, but if it’s your soul mate that you want to roll around in the sheets with, then it’s cool. Yeah, believe me, it was a shock for me as well. Like, that makes no sense!! But then again, most of my life nowadays doesn’t either. 

Like the fact that I’m the oracle of Zeus. Not the bearded old man who throws thunderbolts left and right, but the smexy god of abs, that blast things up with thunderbolts. He’s pretty much perfect, as expected of an ancient Greek god – the whole glossy black hair, skin the colour of honey, muscular, but not too much and, oh sweet heavens, his eyes. Those royal-blue pools of delight. Ah… Ok, I’m a sucker for the combination black hair-blue eyes! Admit it, so are you!  
What was I saying? Ah, yes. So Zeus and all the rest of the gods turned out to be real and pretty much not the wrinkly old goofs from the history books. A few days after I came to terms with the fact that I’m still not for the snake-pit, and everything is pretty much as real as it can get, my patron, Zeus himself, paid me a visit. In my flat. And should I tell you the moment I opened my door I swear my heart missed a beat? I wish I could tell you that I didn’t believe a word he said, from the ‘I’m Zeus...’ to ‘… it’s all real.’ But, unfortunately, when you have already foreseen what’s going to happen, it spoils the fun. So I knew he’d come. And believed every single word that came out of his gorgeous lips.  
I’ll spare you the details around how I woke up one morning furious at Ares for defying my strict orders not to let Athena anywhere near the armoury when it’s being polished. Yeah, pretty strange to start your day wondering how you should punish that kind of disobedience. Until I realised there’s no way I could know that. Zeus, the dear fellow, cleared things up for me when he decided to pay me an unexpected visit. It turned out that since I’m an oracle in his temple /I didn’t see the need to tell him there’s no such thing anywhere nearby /he can communicate with me whenever he sees fit; or let me see what he sees, or feels, or what had happened and so on. And since the connection is bilateral, he can sneak into my head as well. Any stronger emotion rings a bell in his head. The first thing that came to my mind when he shared that piece of valuable information was a freaking bond. The whole Maker-Child thing from ‘TruBlood’ worked on the same principle as it turned out. Well, almost – I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to enter Zeus’s mind, or any god’s for that matter. Too much info may fry my mortal brain. 

I came to meet some of the gods, as they were pretty curious about how a 23-year-old suddenly turned into an oracle. I always said Death chose me to carry out one last hard task for her before she lets my shining soul flee away. That made them chuckle and me, laugh. At least it wasn’t tense when they came by. Which was often – it seems Olympus is no longer as fun and time-consuming as it used to be.  
Somehow along the way I even managed to get mixed up in the whole gods-against-gods arguments. I don’t know why they dragged me in. Probably because Zeus was going to zap their asses if they didn’t shut up any time soon. So I became a psychologist, consultant and a judge at the same time. After hearing out the bickering sides I then shared my thoughts with Zeus. After reaching a suitable agreement, which was a pain in the ass as he never really had someone talk back at him or not share the same views, he summoned all those involved in the dispute and my living room turned into a court for more than an hour. It was amusing to see those thousands of years old gods, looking like teenagers and acting as such. Seriously, by the end of the whole thing I couldn’t distinguish if the headache was mine or Zeus’. Either way it all ended peacefully. For exactly ten days. 

~*~*~*~*

I’m comfortably sitting on my laptop, editing my newest story when a sudden wave of boredom washes over me, making me wanna start throwing things out of the window just for the fun of it.  
“Zeus! Stop it! I’m working, for heavens’ sake!” I shout at the ceiling, knowing perfectly well it won’t stop the god from terrorizing me.  
Sighing and pushing a few strands of auburn hair out of my face, I try to concentrate at the task at hand. My editor will kill me if I tell her that I’m lagging behind schedule. Again!  
Yet as I chew on my bottom lip, rereading the same sentence for the fifth time, the lamps start flickering. Having already learned his pattern of torture I quickly save the last changes on my document and close the laptop.  
“I can’t believe you! An immortal god, the one who’s supposed to be the most mature and all, acting like a spoiled child! I’m not here to entertain you!” I hiss under my breath after going to the kitchen and filling myself a cup of coffee.  
The biggest downside of having a telepathic bond with a god who, as it turned out grows bored faster than I can manage to read a book, is that when I sleep and try to let my brain pull itself together, Zeus finds it appropriate to flood my mind with random things. Like who almost pushed who from the edge of Olympus; who hates who; when is the next Grant festival or Gala Dinner and so on. I don’t know if he does it on purpose – drowning me in pointless information while I try to rest, but it seriously knocks the daylight out of me. I can hardly sleep either way, but having a certain amount of data sipped into me while I’m dead for the night has me running on autopilot way too often for comfort.  
A low hum in the back of my mind informs me that Zeus has re-opened our connection and is currently picking at my brain. With time I managed to build a wall around my thoughts, so to say, in order to keep intruders out of my head. Unfortunately, Zeus is quite the persistent type.  
“Didn’t I ask you to stay out of my head if it’s not an emergency?” My thoughts aren’t hostile or irritated, rather tired.  
“Indeed you did.” as usual his reply makes me roll my eyes.  
For someone who seeks to be entertainment every so often, when we come to speak he becomes silent and distanced. As if he doesn’t want to talk with me, just listen. Observe my life and add a witticism here and there. Sometimes I feel as if I’m an actress and he’s the cameraman – following my every move and making sure I graciously jump around the stage.  
“If you stopped by out of boredom again, I’ll have to ask you to leave. I have work to do, and currently have no time to chat.” the words come out ruder than I anticipated but before I can apologise, the hum is gone and so is he. ‘Strange. He usually doesn’t leave without a nice argument.’ yet that mystery quickly slips from my mind, as work and chores and life come rushing for the limelight.

~*~*~*~*

I’m sitting in a café, three days later, and reading a fine book when someone clears their throat behind me. My inner senses, which appeared after I changed, stand on edge and I feel needles poking each and every single nerve in my body. Turning around and frowning behind my sunglasses, I notice a young man standing next to me and blushing. He’s at least two meters tall, with messy chestnut hair and green eyes, his casual clothes fitting him pretty well. ‘Hold your horses, writer-girl!’ I mentally scold myself.  
“Can I help you?” my voice comes out polite and chipper.  
“Uhm… yeah…. you see….” he blushes even more and looks away shyly.  
I raise my eyebrow at him and tilt my head. My book, ‘Pride and Prejudice’ is now closed in my lap.  
“I’m Caleb.” out of the blue he blurs and extends his hand at me.  
For a whole second I just stand there and waver if I should turn around and ignore him or laugh. Eventually, as I see him loosing colour, I smile and take his hand into mine, shaking it a little.  
“Nicolleta. With a ‘c’ and double ‘l’, not ‘t’. It’s a pleasure.”  
Taken by surprise Caleb quickly recovers and smiles.  
“Nice name. You’re not from here, I assume?”  
I chuckle and nod.  
“Mind if I ask where you come from?” he keeps on pushing, delicately, trying to form a conversation.  
It seems that I have lost the ability to communicate with other people after spending most of my time either by myself or chatting with Athens, who for an unknown reason finds me interesting, or some of the other gods, who probably also mind me amusing. So now, when a man, a human man, wants to chat I feel speechless. ‘Grow a pair of balls, moron! The guy’s a cutie!’  
“From very far away.” I manage to say without choking on the words.  
After almost getting killed two years ago, I no longer felt safe in my hometown so I threw all my stuff in a big suitcase and left. And ever since I’m on the move. When I like the place I stay for longer periods, but that usually lasts around five to six months. Then I have the feeling I’m in danger and flee. The paranoia really did get to me, as it seems.  
“Would you like to sit, Caleb?” I nod towards the free chair opposite of me.  
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean to interrupt your reading. I just wanted to know your name.” he quickly shoots back, a faint blush gracing his cheeks.  
Before I know it, I’m giggling like a hormonally overthrown teenager. Yet that seems to take the tension in his shoulders away, and his laugh, a little bit strange and animalistic, follows.  
“I don’t mind really. Haven’t spoken to a normal human being for a while now. It’ll do me good.” 

I expected the whole chatting thing to take an hour or so before Caleb realised I’m too boring and simple for his taste and left, offering me a snatchy excuse. However, three hours later, we are still sitting on the same table, drinking god knows which cup of coffee, and laughing our asses off. Despite my fear that he’ll find me too plain, it turns out we make a good fit – I lack sense of humour, but he has it in surplus; I am an artist by soul and spot the details and colours, while he admitted never noticing anything minor. We share a love for books as well, and our musical tastes overlap. Talking with him is a pure joy for the soul and by the time we leave the café, I feel as if I had a week free of all the oracle shit.  
We decide to go for a walk in the park nearby, enjoying the fine weather and the people. Caleb, unlike any other boy I ever got out with, offers me his undivided attention. He listens when I speak and even stands his ground when we don’t share an opinion in a certain problem. Somehow his difficulty to accept someone else’s point of view as possible amuses and reminds me of someone. Hours literally slip by and before I know it the sun has set.  
“I’ll have to head back.”  
“Don’t tell me you have a curfew?” his laugh makes my skin prickle and my body grow tense, but I quickly mask it as a shiver.  
“It grew cold and I have stuff to do.”  
The feeling that something’s about to go wrong grips me so suddenly that I almost trip. Caleb acts faster and his hands end up around my waist, preventing me from meeting the cold ground nose-first. Yet somehow this embrace unnerves me as well. Breaking free and taking a step back, I try to tell myself to calm down, that I’ll scare him off if I keep acting like I have seen a ghost. Running my cold hands up and down my arms, I look around, buying myself some time to compose my erratic heart. That’s when I notice the park is deserted – not a living soul in sight, no birds, nothing. Just us and the fountain a few steps ahead, its water the only thing audible in this ghostly silence. I look around once again, but the result is the same – I can’t see anybody. It’s just me and the man I met a few hours ago.  
“You ok?” his voice reaches me and pulls my worried mind back to the present.  
The only response I give him is a small nod, while still trying to ease the tension in the back of my skull. ‘Something’s wrong.’ All the bells in my head are ringing loudly, warning me to get out of there as fast as possible, yet my body stays rooted to the spot.  
“We should leave.” I whisper and make a step forward.  
“Why? It’s nice, isn’t it? The moon and stuff? You were the one talking about details earlier, yet you haven’t even looked up.” he tries to sound amused but I sense tension in his voice as well.  
“I prefer to go back home.” after making a few steps ahead I notice he has grown quiet.  
Turning around, I see Caleb standing where I left him – near a bench, with his hands hidden in the pockets of his leather jacket.  
Frowning, I notice that his jacket is zipped up all the way – it’s the begging of summer and despite the wind, it’s definitely not cold enough to be zipped up like that. And his hands are in his pockets. In the back of my mind I feel a realization rushing forward, but it’s still pretty far away.  
“C’mon. ” I urge him and he follows.  
‘Come to think of it, he had leather gloves on earlier today. The whole day actually.’ I remind myself as we are finally on the move. ‘It’s strange. He has covered as much skin as possible…’ I know this is the moment I should figure things out, I can feel it, yet I’m empty handed.  
A few steps more and another panic wave hits me, making my heart drop in my stomach. Gritting my teeth and wrinkling my nose, I try to use my Sight in order to see if something is lurking in the shadows. Yet after a quick observation, I can’t see or sense anything that it’s not human. Hurrying ahead, I skip to notice the lack of steps next to me. A second too late I turn around, only to be met with a hand flying towards me.  
Grabbing the wrist I push it forward and away from me. Caleb tries to pry his hand free, but it’s too late. My skin touches his and the vision hits me like a rugby player up for the touchdown. The air is knocked out of my lungs in a second and the picture changes.

I see myself in the fountain, drowning, as Caleb pushes my head further into the dirty water, a crazy and bloodthirsty look in his eyes. I fight, but it seems pointless as suddenly his form changes and he is no longer a normal boy but a creature with black cracked skin and bloodshot eyes and silver tattoos all over its body.

The next thing I know I’m back in the present and no more than a second has passed, yet once again too late and slow to react. I’m dizzy and disorientated, so Caleb acts first. He lands a blow in my stomach, making me bend forward and grabs me by the hair. By the time I actually manage to process the fact that I’m about to die, he has already dragged me by the fountain and is lifting me up. That’s when I drive the dagger I always carry around deep into his stomach and kick him in the kneecap. He jumps back with a howl and I use the opportunity to stand up and glance at the weapon in my hand. It’s covered in dark substance that’s thicker than human blood and seems to have the properties of an acid. I quickly wipe it off in my torn cardigan which I then throw on the ground. Glancing at Caleb, I see he’s almost back on his feet. Just like in my vision his skin is black and cracked, as if it is just a shell, and many silver squiggles are splattered all over it. His red eyes glare at me and an animalistic growl tears at the silence. That’s when I decide to run for it.  
I have never been the running type of girl. Truth to be told, I despise it. Yet now, when I know I’m probably going to die, I command my legs to go turbo. The alleys are halfway lit by the lamps, but by the time I reach the middle of the last one, the lights go off. I’m left in utter darkness, the moon’s soft glow being the only thing that shows me the way. It’s stupid to run when you can hardly see where you are going, but stopping will mean death, so I urge myself forward, while in the meantime trying to put together a plan. The dagger in my hand feels hot and it’s almost painful to hold it, but it’s the only weapon I have, so I grip it tighter and run even faster. As I feel like I have neared the corner I slow down and grit my teeth. Yet before I can even think of my next move two incredibly strong hands grab me by the shoulders and toss me to the side as if I’m a rag doll. The collision with a tree trunk knocks the air out of me and blurs my vision. I’m in the process of trying to make my lungs function properly when suddenly someone grabs me by the throat and lifts me off the ground. I have always found the process of choking your victim to death distasteful and damn cowardly, but now when I’m on the receiving end of said execution I find it mortifying. My sight clears out for about a second, enough to look into the eyes of the creature and see deep feral rancour and animosity. He wants to kill me. He desires to be the one who takes my life away slowly, to see me loosing hope. He thrives from the fear that has me paralyzed and I know that I need to do something. However, despite training with Zeus in his human form, I know I stand little to no chance against such a powerful opponent. The creature in front of me is like an enraged animal that somehow during evolution got legs and hands instead of claws.  
In this moment I wish I had asked Zeus to teach me how to do simple but efficient blows, but instead I had foolishly insisted on… my chain of thoughts is cut short as an idea finally strikes me. ‘Zeus!! He can help!’ As I start to claw and kick, buying myself precious seconds, I remind myself what he taught me about the telepathic connection. ‘Use only when highly necessary? Check. Be in mortal danger? Check. Concentrate and call for him? Was that it?’ I know I have no time to think it through, so I act on instinct. Collecting the last remains of air in my bruised lungs and focusing my mind and energy into a single spinning vortex, I open my mouth and try to shout, but the creature tightens its grip and I choke. Tears form in the corners of my eyes and I know it’s either now or never. Once again I gather all my oracle energy or whatever it’s called and channel it.  
“ZEUS!” his name leaves my lips reinforced with all my might, both through the telepathic connection and the verbal one.  
Caleb, or however the creature is called growls, baring its sharp teeth at me. The black spots in my vision thicken and I know I’m gonna die.  
“Zeus…. help…..me….” the last syllable leaves my lips as a sigh and the world drowns in darkness.

~*~*~*~*

I stare at a irritatingly white ceiling. It’s hard to focus, but I’m sure that this isn’t the ceiling in my room. ‘Where… am…’ my mind is sluggish, still in slumber. For a second everything seems paused. Then pain comes. It’s burning and tearing at me and led by my instincts I try to move, to escape. Yet it doesn’t go away. My body is trashing around, but soon two strong hands grab me by the shoulders and push me down. There’s a voice telling me something, but the fear fuelled by the pain has me on the edge of sanity, where all my walls are up and I’m pretty much inaccessible. Then the voice comes again, this time calmer and clearer, yet still incomprehensible.  
“Nicolleta! Calm down. It’s me. You’re ok.” I know this voice. It’s Zeus’.  
“Zeus! It hurts. Make it stop... Please! Make it stop!” I’m not sure if he hears me or not, but his hands keep on pinning me down, not too forcefully, yet unshakably.  
Suddenly there’s a something running down my oesophagus and I almost choke. I try to fight it off but the liquid keeps on being poured in my mouth and Zeus is holding me down, so I see no other choice but to swallow. The thing that’s being given to me is thick and sweet and it extinguishes the fire in me. The pain gets dulled immediately and the fear releases me from its merciless claws. Once again I crack open my eyes and blink at the yellow flashy light. And then I gaze focuses on the sky – inky blue, with the moon in the form of sickle.  
Blink. ‘The sky…’  
Blink. Blink. ‘Stars….?’  
Blink. Blink. ‘What?’  
Inhaling deeply and suddenly, I almost pass out, as my head makes a dangerous spin right after I jump up. Falling back down, I’m caught by two strong hands and my head rests on someone’s chest. The only thing I manage to sense is a vibration, meaning that someone’s talking. Yet the words are too far away for me to catch, so I tilt my head more comfortably and let the tiredness lull me.

~*~*~*~*

I see myself pinned to a tree, the life being squeezed out of me. I’m so far away, yet so close. One minute I’m watching the scene in the park, in the next I’m running down some stairs, my cloak flapping behind me.  
“Athens!” I shout, my voice hoarse and stern. Definitely male.  
“Father!” the goddess bows and then averts her gaze back at what she was looking until now. “It’s the oracle. She’s being attacked!”  
I step next to her and look down. Indeed, there I am, being choked like a chicken by a vile kid. Suddenly rage overtakes me and the desire to smash and throw thunders appears out of the blue.  
“Can she make it?” it’s another voice.  
I turn around and see Poseidon running down the stairs with Ares hot on his track. The god of the seas spins his trident nervously and clenches his teeth. He feels the same anger.  
“She won’t. Father, please!” it’s Athens. She looks as if she’s about to plead me to act.  
“Zeus, if she dies…” Ares doesn’t finish that sentence as I glare his way.  
“We must not interfere in the fates of the mortals unless it’s necessary.” my voice is still stern, but the tension has me ready to bolt any moment. ‘Come on, Nicolleta! Say it! Come on, tiny human!’ his thoughts echo in my head.  
When we look down once again I see my squirming body fighting and clawing at the attacker. I open my mouth but the creature tightens its grip and I choke. My fists tighten and all my muscles turn into steel. Yet I know I must not do it – I must not act before called for.  
“Zeus!” Poseidon is near the edge, his body ready to jump as his trident is buzzing in his hand, ready to strike.  
“Not a move!” it’s an order, yet there is a small tread of pain and despair in it.  
Ares and Poseidon are about to disobey me.  
“If any of you breaks the Law and meddles with the fate of the human, you shall face death!” my voice is on the verge of shout.  
The gods exchange glances and bow their heads. I grit my teeth and try to sustain myself from lashing out. ‘Do it, Nicolleta!’  
And then I do it. I shout his name loud and clear. My plea reaches Olympus and echoes in the almost deserted temple.  
Before I know it I’m on the edge of the platform, about to summon the lightning. Yet I wait. The muscles under my skin are flexing, yet I don’t move.  
“Father.” it is Athena’s plea.  
“Zeus… help….me…” and my plea finally gets carried all the way up to them.  
I jump and the lightning takes me. Landing on my feet, the ground shakes and cracks. I spot the creature that drops my limp body to the ground. A second filled with tension follows. And then rage and wrath make the air sizzle, as if alive. The thunderbolt bends under my will and I strike. The creature manages to jump away, yet there’s a deep gash on his right hand. It holds its lower stomach as it backs away. A spark of pride courses through me before I attack again. And again. In the end what’s left of the creature is a pile of ash.  
I rush to Athena’s side. She’s holding my limp and pale body. The goddess is at the verge of tears when she looks up at me.  
“Father… She…”  
Despair and pain make me fall on my knees next to her. ‘No. No. No.’ the denial clenches my throat.  
And then I see my eyes crack open - a sign that I’m still amongst the living. Athena is quick to fetch a little flask. Yet suddenly my body starts trashing around and pained howls escape my wounded throat. ‘She’s going to hurt herself!’ I grab my body by the shoulders, gently yet firmly pushing it down.  
“Hold her!”  
My body is too weak to resist or fight, yet I keep of wheezing, the sounds leaving my lips making the blood in the veins in this body grow cold then hot and then cold once again. ‘She’s slipping…’  
“Nicolleta! Calm down!” I don’t listen to his voice. I can’t hear it.  
“Steady her.” Athena has finally opened the flask and the ambrosia in it glimmers in the dim light.  
“I’m here, Nicolleta. Calm down.” the low whispered words barely leave my lips and I gulp nervously when the goddess places the flask over my lips.  
She is giving me small sips, but most of it is running down the sides of my mouth. My body is choking and I’m fighting.  
“Do it.” I grit my teeth and gently lift my head. My skin is purplish.  
This time my body doesn’t fight back. The ambrosia enters my system and I quickly regain colour.  
Athena smiles and gently brushes the auburn locks out of my face. She looks at me and nods.  
“We did it, Father!” she laughs, her eyes sparkling.

~*~*~*~*

My eyes shoot open and I jump up. It’s a bad move as a second later I feel as if I’m about to vomit in my own bed. Bend in half and fighting for a gulp of air, I feel as if I’m being choked all over again.  
“Lay back down!” his voice roams through the room and like a spell has me lying down.  
I look around but cannot see him since there’s no light in the room. After taking a few deep gulps of air and chasing the nausea away, I rub my eyes with my hands.  
“How long was I out?” my voice is so hoarse, that I hardly believe it’s my own.  
“A day.” he tries to sound nonchalant, but I know he has been here this whole time, looking after me.  
I moan and sit up once again, this time slower. Zeus’s low growl makes my skin prickle, but there’s no fear rushing through my veins.  
The vision, the one he shared with me, is still fresh in my mind. There are some questions that are nagging at the back of my head, but with my sore throat I can’t see myself speaking, so I do something that I have never done – open the telepathic connection from my end.  
“What was that thing?”  
There’s silence from the other end and for a second I wonder if he has left. ‘No. He’s here. I can feel him.’ I sense his aura in one of the corners of my room, sitting in a chair, yet I don’t dare look that way. Instead I focus my attention on my fingers, noticing the chipped nails and cracked skin.  
“A servant of the Titans. A Tracker.” the sudden appearance of his voice makes me jump.  
“You mean he has been following me? We met that day! I have never seen him before.” for once I’m grateful that I don’t have to use my mouth as it’s a lot easier to make your thoughts sound calm and emotionless rather than your voice.  
“He knew where to find you.” it’s a statement; he’s telling me that I have been followed this whole time without me noticing.  
“I was careful. I am always careful.”  
“Then how did you miss to sense him!?” this time I can feel his anger wash over me through the connection.  
There’s nothing I can say in my defence. Nothing is worth the risk of being compromised and captured by the enemy. And personally I’m in constant danger since I’m not only one of the few oracles in the world for the last couple of centuries, but also Zeus’ , which means the price for me is higher than the rest. The god of thunder rarely has oracles because they can easily channel his power, which makes them a perfect target for anyone who has a grudge against him. If I was caught by that Tracker and brought to their camp or whatever it is called, I would have been tortured far worse than I could even imagine. They’d probably want me to channel a big amount of Zeus’ power into something, which will lead to my death and his weakening. And yet…  
“He had no intension to use me – he wanted me dead. That makes no sense.”  
“Many things lack sense.” he didn’t say it directly but I know he’s referring to me, and that hurts.  
“I tried-” I begin, but his booming voice in my head makes me wince and stop.  
“YOU FAILED! YOU DIDN’T TRY HARD ENOUGH! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF THAT THING HAD DECIDED TO KNOCK YOU OUT AND TAKE YOU AWAY?” he’s furious and I know it will be best if I let the subject drop. But I don’t. I can’t.  
“Imagine, I do!!! They’d have used me to get to you! Do you think I’m that stupid!!!” my own thoughts have turned into shouts and now I’m looking directly at him. I know what I need to add.  
“I’d cut my own veins open before I let anyone use me to get to you.” the pain escalades with every single word I say, the searing pain in my throat almost bringing tears to my eyes. “I’d never, ever, let my weakness affect you or someone else of the gods. You should have known this by now.”  
The last part is barely a whisper, yet all the pain and hurt are evident, as well as the anger and determination. For a second the lights flicker and I notice the look on his face – he seems confused and angry, sad and desperate. But before I can even say a word he’s gone. 

~*~*~*~*

A week passes without Zeus even checking on me. Athena came to bring me ambrosia and check on my wounds the first day. We chatted for a while, I showed her what I had been working on recently and eventually she left.  
The next day while I was grocery shopping I came upon Poseidon. He helped me with the bags and we talked for a while. And just like Athena, he didn’t say a word about Zeus. They were hiding something, yet I didn’t feel like pushing them. One furious god at a time, please. Poseidon stayed at my place for a while and we talked about the sea – one of our common passions. He offered to teach me how to serf if someday I bring myself anywhere near the sea. I reminded him that most seas don’t have good enough waves for surfing, to which he replied with, I quote:  
“That’s because I was never there.”  
The day after that Ares came, which was really strange, ‘cus he never comes down unless there is a fine battle behind the corner. When I asked him about it, he just shrugged and brushed it away. There wasn’t much to talk about with him, so we decided to train. It was mostly me ending flat on my ass and him catching everything I threw his away… myself included. Well, I landed one lucky blow and managed to trip him, but before even immobilizing him, he was on his feet and behind me. It was a nice workout and I got all my muscles working.  
And after that I was on my own. No sign there was someone out there who gave a fuck if I was dead or alive. Surely I was at the brim of depression and self-pity, when I received an unexpected phone call. 

~*~*~*~*

I open the door of the cab and walk down the red carpet leading to the entrance of one of the biggest, fanciest and most expensive restaurants in the city. A man in a black suit opens the door for me and asks if I have a reservation.  
“Yes. Mr Grey.”  
The man in the suit smiles politely and leads the way. The restaurant is filled with people dressed as if they are going to the Grammy Awards or something; their attitude is the same – small eyes glancing at me and silently whispering that this place is so not for my null persona. Yet the men ogle me as if I’m walking around naked, and the women try to act as if they’re ignoring me, as if I’m too low to even be noticed, yet their eyes stay glued to my young body. When we reach the table, Mr Grey stands up and smiles, his baby-blue eyes sparkling with a childish glee.  
“Nicolleta! Long-time no see.” I smile and hug him.  
“Long-time no see, indeed, Andrew.” I laugh and step back. “You still smell the same way. Nice.”  
He blinks at me for a second before bursting into laughter. Many of the old couples glare our way, but neither of us notices.  
We sit down and the waiter comes, handing us our menus and offering some appetisers. Yet the piece of glossy carton receives little to no attention, as Andrew and I can’t stop talking. I give my best to keep quiet and not laugh at the top of my lungs, yet when we share memories of our common past filled with adventures, so to say, it’s hard to contain yourself.  
The waiter comes and goes periodically, but we barely pay him attention. By the time the dessert is served my tummy hurts from all the laughter and there are tears in the corners of my eyes. I feel so good, so happy and joyful, that almost miss the appearance of the sudden hum in the back of my head. Startled by the opened connection, I quickly excuse myself and rush to the lady’s rooms. After checking if it’s empty, I figure out how the fancy sink works and let the water spray, creating a perfect background.  
“Yes?” I hush while pretending to wash my hands.  
Yet there’s no reply, not even a single emotion tossed my way. Frowning and proceeding to fix my hair and making sure the make-up I put on so carefully and thoroughly earlier today is still in place, I try to sense something. As sudden as it appeared, the hum is gone, and I’m left gaping at the mirror, wondering what the hell just happened. ‘Am I going nuts?’ glaring at my own reflexion and pouting like a little kid, I flip my long straightened auburn hair over my shoulder. ‘I mean, yeah, sure, I miss that pesky god, but I can’t be hallucinating and stuff, right?’ Biting my bottom lip I anxiously move my shoulders and with a last glance at the mirror turn around and leave.

The moment I step into the main hall, I know something has changed. Looking around, almost expecting a Tracker to jump from behind one of the columns, wearing a fancy tux and giving me that toothy grin, I notice that everything is just how I left it – the big guns are pretending to be wrapped in their own universe, their wives are throwing sideway glances at me, probably judging my fashion taste and the waiters scurry around, carrying their trays. That’s when I notice that there’s a man sitting with Andrew on the table, obviously talking with him casually, as he’s leaning back in the chair and tracing one of the silver cutleries. With each step I take, I feel a knot forming in the pits of my stomach. ‘Dear heavens, you must seriously hate me.’ I groan mentally when I near the table enough to catch Andrew’s attention. Being the gentlemen he is, he jumps on his feet and gives me a stiff smile. Getting a closer look, I notice him being paler than before.  
“Nicolleta.” his voice is hoarse and shaky.  
Raising an eyebrow his way I glance at the other man, who rose up as well. Stopping dead in my track I feel my heart skipping a beat before it hits the floor with a loud crashing sound. The blood leaves my face and my hands go cold in just a second.  
The man who arrived after I left is as tall as Andrew, obviously taller than me even in my stilettoes. His hair is a curly jet black mess that gracefully falls around his face, framing it; it looks like as if each curl has a special place in which is put, yet they look so natural. The man is wearing a tailor-made suit, consisting of a black jacket, trousers in the same hue and a pearly white shirt underneath, with the first two buttons left undone, showing patch of honey skin. Gulping and somehow managing to tear my eyes away from his body, I meet his eyes - two royal-blue pools of godly pleasure, filled with wisdom and amusement. ‘Zeus, you asshole!’ I hiss mentally before giving him my best attempt of a smile.  
“Your fiancé was just telling me how much you have affected his life.” Andrew quickly says, his awkward posture telling me he feels out of place next to the god. Not that I blame him – who wouldn’t?  
“My… fiancé?” I almost choke on the last word, but quickly mask it with a cough.  
Too shocked to come up with something to say, I’m saved by Zeus who smiles sweetly, leans in closer and plants a chaste kiss on my cheek.  
“I hope I managed to surprise you, love.” he purrs the words with such utter affection that I sure would have buckled my kneecaps if we were alone.  
But we are not, and my previous shock and loss of words are quickly gone and now I’m at the verge of smacking the impudent god against the face so hard that he’ll see Olympus. Furthermore, the red rage is making my blood boil, leading to my cheeks flushing. Mistaking the rush of blood for blushing, I notice Zeus smirking victoriously and throwing a glance towards Andrew. The poor man looks like he wants the earth to open and swallow him whole.  
After taking my seat, I no longer want to stay here, eat or do whatsoever near Zeus, who decided to come and spoil my night. Yet the chocolate mousse is placed before me and, since I can’t start shouting inappropriate words at my “fiancé” in such a fancy restaurant without making a scene, I aim my rage at the dessert. In the history of mousses I’m sure none managed to be devoured and destroyed in such a short time than the one that was unfortunate enough to end up under the mercy of my spoon. I probably looked like a madwoman who has never seen a pile of cocoa in her life, but better that then a psychotic chic that throws around knives at a fine piece of male specimen while swearing like fishmonger in a roadside shitty town.  
As time tickles away slowly I feel a headache forming in the back of my mind; wracking my brain, I try to come up with a plausible excuse to leave and get Zeus as far as humanly possible from Andrew, but nothing good comes to mind. My old-time friend seems as if he’d prefer to be anywhere else but here, while Zeus, all smug and filled with confidence, is leaning back in his chair, looking at the other man with badly hidden sense of superiority and gives him that sweet smile, that makes you wonder whether he likes you or would like to see your head impaled on a spike in his living room. The conversation they are leading, more like an interrogation from the god’s side, seems to be revolving around me. Yet, being too preoccupied with figuring out a way out of this mess without making a scene, I miss the better part of what Andrew was saying. Zeus’ laughter, true and genuine, snaps me out of my trance and I glance his way. He seems amused, his eyes sparkling and for a second my brain shuts down and my heart skips a beat. ‘Gorgeous.’ the word bounces in my mind for a second. I must have been gaping at him quite intensely, because he suddenly looks at me, his eyes still shining, and gives me that panty-dropping smile, which I’m sure can be blamed for the melting of the icecaps.  
“So, Nicoletta, how’s your book going?” Andrew seems keen to finally be free of Zeus’ penetrating stare, and uses the opportunity to continue our conversation from where we left it.  
“Ah… well…” I gulp and smile. “Still working on it…”  
After taking a sip of his wine he gives me that half-curious, half-judging look.  
“I thought you left home in order to carry out a final research for you book?”  
I spin the glass with my middle finger and thumb and wrack my brain for an answer. I can’t possibly tell him I chickened out of there because I believed I was going nuts, nor can I tell him why the book is not finished yet – being an oracle and watching out for Trackers and all that is a full-time job that squeezes the life out of me, leaving no strength to sit down and write.  
“Well, I believe the fault for that is mine.” Zeus’ sudden interference makes me snap my head his way. “Indeed, she came to carry out her research, but after we met I didn’t leave her much free time to practise her hobby, which I’m greatly sorry for.”  
Looking at me with eyes filled with sadness and regret completely takes me off-guard and I’m left dumbfounded, not able to comprehend even the simplest of answers. Somehow a small smile tugs at the corners of my lips and before I even know it I’m leaning in and planting a soft kiss on his cheek – a sign that I’m thankful and appreciate the gesture, as well as forgiveness, because even as the story is twisted a little bit, the general part of it is true.  
“Ah.” Andrew looks away, and I catch a grim expression crossing his face before he hides it with a smile.  
“He’s hiding something.” Zeus’ voice in my head almost makes me yelp, as I didn’t even register he had opened the connection.  
“Well, you are making him feel uncomfortable you know. With all the godly jazz and stuff. It’s natural that he feels twitchy and agitated.”  
Yet by the wave of disbelief and doubt that comes from him I know I’m nowhere near close in convincing the god of my rightness.  
“Haven’t you learned your lesson?” the change of tone is obvious and it does its job at crushing and swiping away my newly formed good mood.  
“I know him since I could barely walk! We particularly grew up together! I’m telling you – he is not one of the bad guys!”  
No response comes from his side, but I know hell will freeze before I manage to show him I’m right without blowing our cover. ‘We need to get out of here before I slip and tell him to fuck off with all the incredulity!!’  
“You never told me why you stopped by?” I fill the sudden silence with the first thing that comes to mind.  
“Well… work and all that. You know how it goes.” Andrew sheepishly says, before scratching his right ear.  
“He is lying.” Zeus is quick to throw at me the obvious. Since I basically grew up with Andrew, I know all his habits and also that he’s the worst liar – he has a bad knack at scratching his right ear when he lies.  
“You know, it offends me. Thinking that I can’t catch you lying to me, that is.” I whisper as I take another sip of my drink.  
Taken aback, my friend pales a little and looks away, ashamed. Instantly I regret my bluntness to call out his bluff, and in front of Zeus none the less.  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound as if I’m judging you. It’s not my job to ask in the first place.”  
“No, no. You’re right, as usual.” laughing off the tension, Andrew runs a hand through his hair. “I just didn’t know where to go. I wanted to get away from there…”  
He stops and his mood falls drastically, signalizing me I just touched a strained nerve. Yet, as they say, curiosity killed the cat.  
“What has happened?”  
“My mother, she passed away.” he whispers the words and utter sorrow darkens his eyes.  
It takes me around three to four seconds to assimilate what he just told me. Being the one who meets Death on a daily basis and leads a life on the edge, sometimes I forget how painful it is for the others to cope with someone’s sudden death. After I got shot and almost went the dark road, my perception for the shortness of our life has radically changed. I no longer fear Death, because I know it’s inevitable, that it’s coming for me sooner or later, and since I decided to meddle with all the god stuff, it seems I have moved up its ‘To Do’ list with a few million places.  
“My condolences. She was a great woman.” I say and lean over the table, placing my hand over his.  
A second too late I feel the pull, but there’s nothing I can do. The vision swirls before my eyes.

I’m in the restaurant. One second everything is normal, we are sitting at the table, talking, and the next thing I know the side of the restaurant that faces the street blows up, sending flying pieces of glass everywhere.  
Andrew is heavily wounded, lying to his side with a puddle of blood forming fast around his head. Most of the guests are dead or seem to be screaming in death agony. Looking around, I search for Zeus. At first I cannot see him, but then I notice his body lying in the other end of the room, a nasty wound on his chest. He’s bleeding and there’s no sign that he’s still alive. Then I notice the spear-shaped weapon sticking out of his chest. I would have screamed if I could, but the scene changes.  
I see myself. My red dress is in shreds, my hair is all over my face and I seem to be still conscious, but barely. Trackers enter through the hole in the wall and some come to me. Harshly pulling me off from under the ruins, they toss me to the side and I land on my right side with a thud. One of the Trackers comes to me with one of those spear-like weapons and prepares to strike.  
The first thing I actually hear is the low chiming of the wall clock. It strikes 11.

The first few minutes after a vision are always the worst. I feel disorientated, sick to the bone and too weak to even deliver what I saw. This time is no different. I dangerously lean to the side and would have surely knocked over everything on the table if it wasn’t for Zeus’ fast reflexes. He quickly pulls me back towards him, letting me rest my head against his shoulder, while in the meantime hiding my paled face from view.  
I register Andrew asking what’s wrong with me and Zeus feeding him another lie. A few minutes pass before I peek at the clock on the wall. It shows twenty to eleven. Suddenly the blood in my veins grows cold and I tremble.  
“We need to get out of here immediately.” I barely manage to reopen the connection.  
“What did you see?” his voice is stern and concentrated, but his face gives none of this away.  
“Trackers. They blew up the wall and killed almost everyone. You got injured by some spear-like weapon. We have twenty minutes to get out of here before they come.” I quickly summarise what I saw after I pull away from him and give Andrew a reassuring smile.  
“Sorry. Had a rough day and that just had me cracking. I hope you wouldn’t mind us leaving?”  
By the time I say that Zeus is already on his feet, helping me up.  
“Ah, no, of course not. It was stupid of me to mention that. Sorry.”  
He seems upset and my heart clenches painfully. Rushing over to his side and ignoring the other man’s warning look, I place a kiss of Andrew’s cheek and pat him on the shoulder after a quick hug.  
“Don’t beat yourself up. It’s not your fault. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”  
Without another word we rush out of the restaurant, completely forgetting about the bill we left for Andrew to pay.

Outside the weather has grown cold and I shiver in my thin coat. Looking around, I still don’t spot any danger lurking, but I can feel them. The Trackers. They are close.  
“What should we do?” I hush while literally running after Zeus, who takes equal fast steps towards the park, right from where I get the bad vibes.  
“Wait. Hey! Wait!” I grab him by the hand when he ignores me and continues moving determinedly forward. “What do you think you are doing!? The Trackers are lurking in the park! You can’t go there!” I’m whispering, yet with each word I feel as if someone is listening.  
Zeus seems to be contemplating something before he bends down so that we are at eye-level, grabs me by the shoulder with his free hand and gives me that sexy smirk of his. Yet his eyes seem worried.  
“You go home and lock the doors. Don’t let anybody in.”  
“And you?”  
“I must stop them. They’ll go and kill the mortals either way, just to get our attention.” his determination and wrath quickly push away the worry and concern. He looks ready to zap bad guys up.  
“Not on your own. Just tell me you are not going in that obvious trap on your own!” since I can’t shout, I’m hissing, refusing to let his hand go.  
“I have to do this. We let them escape. It’s my responsibility to make sure they perish once and for all.”  
“But-”  
“Go!” there’s no place for arguing in that order, yet I stay put.  
“I’m not letting you go there alone, Zeus, and you can’t make me leave.”  
“Nicolleta…” there’s a warning note in his voice and his eyes are quick to show his boiling anger.  
The cold wind pushes my hair around, making me shiver even more, but I try my best to ignore it. It’s true that I would prefer to be at home where it’s warm and cosy and safe, but I’ll be damned if I let him deal with this on his own. In a second the temperature drops even lower and I feel as if I have teleported to Antarctica. With my hands almost frozen and my breath coming out in small visible clouds, I know we are wasting precious time arguing.  
“Let me go and leave.” his words are final, yet he waits for me to let him go.  
For someone with his strength and power it will be a child’s play to get my hands off of him and toss me somewhere safe. Yet he doesn’t do it. He waits and asks me, only with his eyes, to let him act and leave.  
“You are not going there alone and that’s final.” I grit between my teeth, the coldness making my whole body shake.  
“And here I thought Zeus was the bossiest one around.” comes an amused voice from behind.  
Throwing a glance over my shoulder I spot Ares, Poseidon and Athena coming our way, their golden armours reflecting the light, their weapons drawn and ready to fight. With a sigh I look back at Zeus, who seems pretty unhappy with the current situation, so I let him go, not wishing to embarrass him furthermore.  
“Be safe.” I say to no one in particular, and after giving the god of thunder one last glance, stop a cab and go home.


	2. Godly pleasure

The moment I get home I know I need to start doing something or I’ll lose my shit from worry. I’m aware that killing a god is pretty hard to do, let alone four of them, and the Trackers didn’t appear to be that much in my vision, but the bad feeling in my gut predicts that things are a lot bigger than we thought. Yet there’s nothing I can do and that drives me nuts.   
“It’ll be pointless to just sit around and look at the clock. Better get my mind busy.” with that last hope I set a small list in my head and start checking it out.  
After a hot shower, a quick tidying of my room and some throwing out of junk from the living room, I sit down on my bed and look at the window. ‘Okay, fine, not much to do. Now what?’ I’m getting restless and worried by the minute so I stand up and start pacing around the room, feeling like a caged animal. Soon different scenarios start forming in my head, the next worse than the previous, and I know that with this pace of falling apart I’ll get a panic attack and faint.   
“Keep you shit together, Nicolleta! They’ll be just fine! Don’t worry! Do something productive or you’ll go mad!” talking to myself always helped, and now it doesn’t fail me either.  
Looking around my room I notice the laptop laying forgotten on the desk. Out of the blue I feel all artistic and use that at my advantage. Opening the old machine and giving it some time to start working properly, I go to the kitchen and fill myself a cup of warm coffee. Since I’m not going to sleep until I know everything’s okay, I must be prepared to stay up and work. A few cups of freshly brewed coffee will do the trick.

Once I get into my plot, with my inspiration in its apogee, there’s nothing stopping me. Not even bathroom breaks or food. This time I make an exception and make sure there’s enough coffee to last me the whole night and a sandwich in case I grow hungry.   
Hours later I have over 50 pages written and ready to edit, a halfway eaten sandwich with tomatoes and a half full cup of now cold coffee. Satisfied with the result I decide to call it a day, or a night for that matter, and save all the changes. After making sure all the hard work is safely saved and my laptop has shut down I go take another shower. ‘Whoever said writing is not one hell of a workout has never written in order to keep himself sane.’ I muse while I rinse my hair from the shampoo.   
Somewhere right after I was ready to get out, an idea struck me. ‘How about a nice bath with some music? It will ease my nerves!’   
Said and done. In no time I fill the bathtub, throw in some bath bombs so that there are many bubbles and it smells like heaven, and play some nice background music. In the movies there’s a glass of fine wine and strawberries, but since I had a long night and a lot of wine, I decide to pass.   
Comfortably emerged into the pleasantly hot water, with my hair still wet and pinned at the top of my head, I gradually feel my muscles relaxing and my strained nerves untying their knots. Under the sound of violins and piano I let my lids close and my barriers drop. For a first time tonight I feel at ease with myself, calm and basically not thinking of anything. But since this is me, the one who thinks too much, a second later there’s a certain blue-eyed god plaguing my mind, making my body react as if he’s there. ‘I am so fucking screwed. Falling for a god! How cliché is that? He is so out of my league!’ yet that self-persuasion doesn’t help much and soon I can’t stop myself from imagining what it would be like to have him close to me, touching me, kissing me with passion and even making love to me.   
Somewhere at the back of my mind I know all this is ridiculous, yet admit that I have been having a major crush on him ever since I laid eyes on him over two years ago. Then there is his temper – an awful mixture of pride, coldness, curiosity, rare sparks of genuine cheerfulness, and lots of raw passion; not the type that we usually connect with hot and intense fucking in a back alley, but the kind of passion that mostly means devotion – to what you believe in, to who you care about, to what you fight for and so on. And Zeus has so much raw passion, that it certainly scares him. He’s a god after all, he must have a clear head and an objective view of stuff. I, a mere human, find it difficult to keep my game going when I’m being overwhelmed by emotions that should not be shown in front of everybody. So I give him that – he keeps a nice poker face, yet his eyes give it all away. Then again only someone insane would dare look the god of thunder right in the eyes. And me. Yeah, it used to unnerve him and he got all irritated and stone-faced, but soon grew used to it. I prefer looking people straight in the eyes when we talk – that way they know they have my attention, and I – theirs. Also it’s easier to notice when someone hides something that way. And with Zeus it just became a game; he found the whole idea of spotting the lie in the eye amusing and wanted to test it out. Since I told him he always does it – while talking he slips in a lie and watches for my reaction. Almost every single time I catch it and usually he gives me one of those rear proud smiles he mostly keeps for Athena. But hey, she’s his daughter after all.

With my head tipped back and my lids close, I try to chase the image of Zeus away. I can’t deny the obvious – he’s smoking hot and damn perfect, his voice makes my skin prickle from excitement; I won’t even submerge into the topic of his eyes, just point out that they’re gorgeous and he can surely make anyone do anything just by giving the right look.  
Yet, what’s also obvious is that there’s no way we can be together – apart from the whole god-mortal thing, I’m also his Oracle, and the whole purity thing seems a little bit smudged around here. Does having sex with a god count? I asked myself that question a number of times and since there’s no way in hell I can ask Zeus or any male for that matter, I turned to Athena. She was kind enough to share that god or no god, if it’s not mutual passion and affection, it’ll be considered tainting and the oracle will lose its powers. So, yeah, quite the blooper. ‘He’s not showing any signs of affection, so better drop it dream girl. Not his type, obviously.’ And it hurts to admit that. My heart clenches painfully and I almost feel tears watering my eyes. I can’t help it – I feel as if I’m being defined by my gift rather than who I really am.   
As usual, lowering my own self-esteem so harshly has me on the suicide road, so I chase these thoughts away. After all, life is not a wish factory – we don’t always get what we want.

I get out of the bathtub only when the water has grown uncomfortably cold. Washing away the bubbles and drying my skin with a fluffy towel, I step in front of the full-length mirror. With my hair out of the twist I put it in, it now falls freely down my shoulders, reaching and successfully hiding my breasts. I notice it already starting to curl at the ends but I shrug it off. My skin, as usual, has that whole-year-round tan, which can be noticed only when you see me naked. Most of the time I don’t stay naked in front of my mirror and observe my body due to the same year-long scruples I have towards it. Like the fact that I’m not slim and tall, but rather average and on the short side. I used to be quite plump when I was younger but lost quite some weight and got myself into working out and then some sports, but as expected I ended up with quite a few stretch-marks mostly on my legs. Of course I’m still far away from the body I’d want to have, but let’s face it, you either choose to become a vegan or you will live with what you get. So I went ahead and tried to accept my round hips and my not so flat stomach. All the workouts and diets were useful, yes, but when you sometimes slip and go all Godzilla on the fridge it’s no wonder I find it difficult to reach my goal.   
Now, when once again I look at myself I see the same things – same wide ankles, same sexy calves, same round hips, same nicely shaped bum /God praise my bike/, the same not-so-flat stomach, same fine amount of breasts and the same tanned skin with a few white patches left from my bathing suit. The only new things on the block are the length of my hair and the marks left after the wounds from the bullets healed. On my right shoulder I have two round patches that show where the bullets entered my body, and on the back – from where they left. Oh, and a piece of jewellery I never part with. It’s the necklace that symbolizes I’m Zeus’ Oracle – a little gold thunderbolt hanging from a nice thin golden chain.   
Fetching my fluffy dressing gown from one of the hangers and putting it on, I tie the belt loosely and walk out of the bathroom. Only to stop dead in my track not even three steps later, with mouth gaping open and eyes widen almost dangerously. There, leaning casually against my desk, with his arms crossed over his muscular chest is Zeus in all his shining godly glory. Unlike all the times we met where he’s in his casual clothes, now is the first time I see him in battle armour. The golden plates glow even in the dim light in the room, creating a halo around him. It takes me a second to notice the blotches of dried blood all over him, his uncontrollable hair, even messier than usual, and his bruised biceps.   
“Are you ok?” is the first thing that I manage to mutter, still firmly planted near the bathroom door.  
He just nods, scanning me up and down for some time, before averting his eyes, instead eyeing the halfway eaten sandwich on my desk. An amused smirk tugs at the corners of his lips and he shakes his head. Just then, while I gawk at him and muse just how freaking sexy, perfect and all the adjectives my obviously mixed up brain can pick up and stamp to his image he is, a realisation strikes me. I’m almost naked in front of him; my dressing gown is barely hanging around my body, let alone hiding my breasts. With a low squeak I turn my back to him and fasten the belt, almost knocking all the air out of my lungs. When sure I have covered as much as possible, probably red in the face, I again turn around, only to be met with Zeus’ laughter. At first I want to frown and get angry, but it’s hard to want to throw something at a man, who just came back from battle, and is freely laughing in his battle armour while surrounded by a halo.   
“Yeah, yeah. Mock the frail mortal. Good for you.” I jokingly grumble before going to my dresser and pulling out some underwear and something to wear.   
He is still smiling by the time I emerge from the bathroom, dressed in my fluffy old tracksuit bottoms and a loose T-shirt.   
“I’d offer you to take a sit, but with that thing you’ll ruin my duvet. So how about a shower and a nice pair of soft pants?”   
Zeus raises an eyebrow my way, a smirk still dancing on his lips, before he effortlessly pushes himself away from my desk, which gives a meek creak, and takes two long steps, melting away the distance between us. No more than a step away, I can smell the awful stench of Trackers’ blood; but even that can hardly overpower his own personal odour. The eye battle between us is quick, as I’m the first to look away, feeling heat wash over me and a strange tingling sensation forming in my tummy.   
“It sounds nice.” his half-whisper has the desired effect and my body’s reaction is immediate.  
I can just hope it skips his keen eyes the way my cheeks flush, how I fiddle with my fingers, the way my tights brush against one another. Breathing a sigh of relief after he enters my bathroom and closes the door, I quickly roam through my cabinets, fetching a pair of tracksuit bottoms and then going on a hunt for a T-shirt that will be large enough to fit him. It turns out that, indeed, I own one, which may even turn out to be too big for the muscular god. ‘It’ll hide his muscles and nice body and will prevent me from ogling and distracting myself.’ as much as I’d like to think this is a good thing, deep in me I’m the slightest bit of disappointed.   
“You know, not leaving me a towel before offering me a shower makes me question your motifs.” and just like that his gentle whisper invades my thoughts, making me drop the T-shirt.   
My head snaps towards the bathroom door where the water is still running.   
“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” I curse under my breath. “I’m sorry!” a last shout before I dive into the closet.  
There, on a special rack, I have all my clean towels nicely folded. Grabbing the biggest one I can find, I return to my room. Knocking on the door, I wait for a reply, but there is none. ‘He’s still under the shower. I’ll just leave it there and get out.’   
Calming my beating heart I open the door and peek inside. Indeed, I can see Zeus’ silhouette behind the frosted glass, separating the bathing area from the rest of the room. Quickly tip-toeing to the rack where the towels usually stay, I nicely loop his towel and turn to leave. And in that very instant the water stops. Nailed to the spot, I don’t know what to do or what to say. Awkwardly enough, I hear Zeus chuckling, and his feet padding towards me. Due to some strangely occurring sequence of dumbness and my brain’s temporarily refusal to work, I stay put rather than run out of the room.  
Since I’m facing the door, yes, the same one which has a full-length mirror, I see when he’s about to get out, and quickly avert my eyes. My toilet just became so much more interesting to look at.   
“I’m glad you were so fast. For a second there I thought you’ll make me walk around naked.” his care-free tone almost makes me miss the amusement in his voice.  
‘Is he messing with me?’ I wonder and take a step away, finally!   
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to walk on you…” I leave the sentence like that before I say something inappropriate.  
“Naked? I’m sure you are familiar with the anatomy of the male body, Nicolleta.”   
‘Yup, definitely messing with me.’ I think before gulping and taking another step forward, finally looking straight ahead. Only to catch our reflexion in the mirror. He is looking at me in a strange, different manner, but when our eyes lock in the mirror, I feel pinned in place yet once again. There’s warmth and ease in his eyes, but also worry and insecurity. I feel as if he wants something, but fears my reaction. ‘Biscuits and thunders! He’s a god, goddamit! He gets what he wants, whenever he wants it!’   
“Can I help you?” somehow the question comes out sounding not as casual as I had imagined it to be.  
The dangerous flash in his eyes pretty much answers for him, but soon that raw emotion is gone and he gives me the usual poker face. Unknowingly why, that angers me more than it should have. ‘God, the wine.’ yet quickly after I realise what is the cause of my mood swings, I’m already facing him, my insecurity out of the window.  
“Stop doing that, dammit!” I don’t shout, but my voice is thick with emotion…. which highly contrasts with his expressionless face.  
His question is in the form of a raised eyebrow. A fucking cocky raised eyebrow!   
“Don’t give me that look!” this time my voice comes out as a low hiss.  
“I don’t see the reason for your anger.” he even deprives his voice of any emotion… anything human. ‘Is he doing it on purpose?!?’  
“Stop acting as if you don’t give a shit about what’s going on! Stop wiping all emotions away as if I’m your worst enemy and will use them against you! It drives me nuts! This is not Olympus where the other gods are watching and expect you to lead them! This is my apartment and me, and I don’t give a square shit what someone will make out of what I do!!! And you shouldn’t as well!!” I shout, my hands now clenched in fists and my eyes narrowed at him.  
I must have probably looked like a hissing angry kitten that someone threw into a puddle. And I admire Zeus for the fact that he doesn’t start laughing; but he doesn’t react either. He just stands there, with the towel wrapped around his waist, and his dazzling eyes looking at me and through me at the same time. Gritting my teeth, I feel my control slipping dangerously away. And yet somehow I don’t seem to care.  
“And you are not even listening.” I mutter, my rage coming dangerously close to the point where I’ll start cursing and throwing things at him.   
“I am.” his own voice comes out hoarse, as if he hasn’t used it for centuries.   
I look him in the eyes, determined to actually realise what he’s feeling. I know it’s like entering someone’s personal space, but I can’t help myself. I feel as if he’s pushing me away, locking himself in, and not letting the outer world see who he truly is.   
Yet he looks away, obviously not wanting to be understood. And it hurts me. It hurts me so freaking much that soon the rage has melted into sorrow. Deeply rooted inside me, it resembles a cancer – it stays below the radar for a long time, until one day it decides it has had enough and comes out, ruining your life; my sadness has always been in me, now it’s just getting too much to handle. Everything is too much – my complex life, my loneliness. And my love. My most probably unrequited love. And it’s killing me from the inside out, just like the cancer.   
“You know I can never be the man you deserve, Nicolleta. I’m immortal, and your lifespan is just a small speck of dust in the universe. I don’t want to cause you pain and suffering; you deserve better…”   
His words leave me speechless. They shake me deeply and utterly, and for some time I just stand there and listen. I’m too afraid to admit I may know what he’s implying. I’m too shocked to ask him how he knows what I’m thinking. And I’m no longer angry enough to provide a good argument, anything, just to get that sadness, so much deeper than mine, away from his features. I once again feel hopeless.   
“But?”   
“But I don’t want anyone else to lay his hands on you. I don’t want another man to touch you, to love you, to make you laugh. To make all those things I can’t. I hate them for being able to provide you with what you seek.” he looks and sound completely devastated, lost and for a first time – completely hopeless.   
“And what is that I seek?” somehow my mind wins the battle against my emotions, and my mouth keeps on delivering questions, even when my heart is clenching and tugging painfully in my chest.  
“Someone who can devote himself to you utterly and unconditionally. Who you can grow old with, have a family and be happy. Someone who will always be by your side and will protect you. Someone who doesn’t need to wear a mask every single time he sees you, just to make sure no one will notice the way he looks at you, how he adores you and cares for you. You deserve to be with someone who will not put your life in danger. ” with every single word I feel at the verge of tears.  
Zeus, the mighty god of thunder, the strongest of the gods and the wisest, now looks like a man who has lost everything he ever cherished in life.   
“Have you even once asked yourself not what I deserve, but what I want?” I whisper.  
He seems to be about to answer so I speak first.  
“You haven’t. I’m not a saint. I don’t deserve anything! I don’t want a man who will plague me with his constant desire of my presence; who will always expect things from me; who would want to change me because I’m too messed up and self-absorbed to devote myself completely to someone else. I don’t need someone to devote himself to me unconditionally either. I want him to love me because of my flaws. To be up for a quarrel and know that when I’m writing he should stay away and not nag me to go out. I want a man who will stand his ground no matter what, who will love me no matter how furious I am, or what awful things I say, or how damaged I tend to be. I want a man who knows me good enough to understand I can live my life without him, but I chose to share it because he brings out the best in me. That’s what I want, Zeus. And as far as I know and have seen, such a man doesn’t walk the earth nowadays.” By the time I finish I’m breathless and with watery eyes, but at least I said what I have always wanted to tell him – ever since he walked past my door and into my life with his magical world and shining eyes.  
The silence stretches between us, but no one wants to break it – we think through what we said to each other. Somewhere deep in me, by the look in his eyes, I know he still doesn’t believe my words. So I decide to give it one last try.  
“I don’t need you in my life, Zeus. I need none of this for that matter.”  
The moment I said it, I regret it. He looks as if I just slapped him hard across the face. Knowing he’s about to shut his emotions away and leave, probably never coming back, I quickly add:  
“But I want you to be in it. I want you as a friend who will torment me when he’s bored out of his mind. As a god who will come to save my sorry ass when I get messed up in yet another close-to-death drama. And as a man who knows who I am and accepts it without wanting to change me. I want you to be by my side because of who you are, because of all those little things you so desperately try to hide from the others. I want to share my life with you, knowing that I won’t be here for long. I know that, believe me, and it’s eating me from the inside out, but I accept it. I don’t have a forever to live. I only have now. That’s all I can offer you – my now, with the best and the worst in it.”   
The time seems to slow down between two heartbeats. One second Zeus is about to leave and the next I’m in his arms, his warm lips on my cheek. Startled, at first I don’t know what’s happening, but soon embrace him despite the droplets running down his still wet body, and I pull him even closer to me.   
“I want your now more than anything I have ever wanted.” he whispers against my skin, his hot breath stoking flames all around my body. “But all I can offer is a world that’s a constant fight.”   
“Then it’s a good thing you thought me how to fight.” I smile and burry my fingers in his still damp hair, admiring its softness.   
I can hear him breathe a sigh of relief, and seconds later happiness swirls in me, both mine and his. We part only for a second, before our lips meet in a slow, testing kiss. It lasts a few seconds, but by the time he pulls away, I know I want more. And by the look in his eyes, so intense and at the same time bright, so does he. Our lips meet once again and this time the lip-lock is more heated, filled with more passion.   
“So does that mean you’ll at least think about it?” I hush against his lips, our breaths mixing, seconds after we parted to take a few gulps of needed air.  
Zeus just smiles, one of those rear genuine smiles, and kisses me again, this time slow and sweet, a chaste kiss.  
“Mmm.” I purr when his lips travel down my jaw on stop on my collarbone before going up and kissing my neck.  
Running my hands down his neck and shoulders than back up in his hair, I feel heat and moisture forming between my legs. 

I can’t remember the correct sequence of events in the next 5 minutes after that. Did he took off my T-shirt, or firstly I tugged at his hair, biting his bottom lip? Did he push me against the chilly tile wall before or after I moaned when he nipped at my neck? Who was the first to lose all their clothing? I can’t seem to remember even that.   
One minute we are in the bathroom, his body pressed against mine, not in a hurry, but filled with passion, and the next I’m sprawled on my bed, the only thing to cover my naked body being my still damp hair. And he is there, in the shadows as much as his always present halo allows him to be, and watches me. No lust or desire to concur as if I’m a mountain’s peek. No, he admires me, memorises my body’s curves with his eyes before his hands could trace it. Somewhere around here I should have been washed by shame and shyness, but I wasn’t. I’m lying there the way I arrived in this world, blushing like a virgin Mary, yet still not wanting to crawl under the bed and spend the rest of my life hiding. I know I can do this, I know I can fight my primal instincts to shy away and preferably keep every inch of my body covered. Well, that’s for the first two minutes at least. Then his intense and traveling gaze becomes too much and my hands move on their own, hiding my nakedness. If the self-destructive thoughts are supposed to arrive around here, all that ‘I’m not pretty enough’ and so on, I miss it. Because Zeus is on top of me in a flash, his hands gently gripping my wrist and keeping them away from my body. I don’t expect any grand proclamations of love to follow, and thankfully they don’t. He just tells me I’m beautiful. No obnoxious epithets, just the plain simple truth, which from his lips sounds so natural.  
“This is who you are. Those are you battle scars.” he whispers against my shoulder, where the marks from the bullets lay.   
Instead of a reply, a low moan skips past my lips and I tell myself to stop worrying, to stop overthinking. Just enjoy. Be happy. And it works – the pressure leaves me either due to my self-calming words or the magical work Zeus’ lips do on my skin.   
He’s generous and patient with me, as expected with a man who has great experience in the field of sex, and my body seems to be enjoying all the attention, reacting as it should. Making me moan simply by touching the right places, I’m soon at the god’s mercy.   
His hot breath fans over my skin, making it prickle and become oh-so-sensitive to the touch; his fingers roam up and down my curves, not leaving a place untouched. Soon I’m moaning and wriggling underneath him, the experience barely balancing between extreme pleasure and torture. I want to touch him, to let my hands travel up and down his body, but how exactly am I supposed to push him on his back and take the initiative? ‘Like I always do!’  
And just like that, with a nice push and a carefully calculated rotation, Zeus is on his back, amazed and shocked at the same time, and I’m straddling him without actually touching him. The pressure in my tights and calves appears but I ignore it. ‘It will be a nice workout!’  
“I hope you don’t mind?” my voice is husky and thick with emotion, mostly arousal.  
He doesn’t answer, just looks at me with eyes filled with mirroring pleasure and desire. Bending down, I place a soft kiss on his cheek, then another in the corner of his mouth. When he tries to take the reins, I grab his wrists and pin them over his head. He gets the message after I gently sink my teeth in the side on his neck. The groan that follows has me shaking with desire, primal lust, but I know I’m stronger than my emotions. Kissing and exploring his body, I take my time, gentle and testing, yet with some strange courage and inspiration. My hands follow the pattern of his body, from his neck, around his shoulders, down his chest, over his hard abs, and right below his navel. He hisses when my cold fingers stop there, only my tips still touching his skin, making small lazy circles. Gritting his teeth and panting as if he’s about to lose it, I peak at his hands and notice they are sprawled to the side, gripping my duvet quite vigorously, and that makes me grin victoriously as I retrace my way up. My torture continues as I once again head down until I reach the place where my fingers stopped and I pause. My hot breath is fanning right over his lower stomach. I lick my lips, but before something crazy comes to mind, his hands grab me by the waist and we spin once again, him on top. His lips crash against mine in a heated, passionate kiss that leaves me breathless and dizzy. His hands once again make a quick course up and down my body, and when his digits touch that sensitive and now throbbing from desire place between my legs I suck in air sharply, arch my back, and give a meow-ish moan.   
“Zeus.” his name leaves my lips both as a plea and a prayer.  
This time it’s his turn to smirk victoriously against my neck before pressing his hard body against mine. It’s like a collision between hot and cold – there’s steam and sparks. My curves seem to fit perfectly against his muscles. And I feel him all hard and ready against my inner tight. I moan and arch my body, pressing it even firmer into his. Our lips meet, his hot and soft, mine icy and shaking. I feel on the edge, barely holding myself together – I don’t know if it’s the lust, the need, the joy, or the fear and insecurity that just started creeping in.   
“Do you want me to stop?” his whisper makes the hairs on my neck stand up.  
Yet my voice seems to have hidden in a hole, so I just shake my head.  
“Hey, look at me.” cupping my face with one of his hands and balancing his body right on top of mine with the other, Zeus gently strokes my cheek.  
Blinking my eyes open, I see his face only a few centimetres away, studying my features in search of what probably makes me look worried. His fingers stroke my cheek and I battle the need to once again close my eyes and let his tenderness sooth me.  
“Are you sure about this?” despite wanting this just as much as I want it, Zeus is still patient and understanding.  
Looking deep into his blue lagoons, those pools leading to his soul, I notice his sincerity. If now I tell him to stop, to get off of me and leave, he’ll do it without arguments. And a part of me wants to tell him to go. That cowardly bitch!   
Smiling and pushing away the paralyzing fear that runs through my system, I raise my hands and cup his face, marvelling at how easily he relaxes under my touch and leans into it. Pushing my upper body up, from which my back protests, I kiss him. Not eagerly or hungrily, but with just as much trust, devotion, love and need as I can muster in this very moment.   
No words are needed anymore. I nod at him and lay back down, not actually knowing what to do with my body from this point forward. Something that all the books I have read left unclear. Thankfully, Zeus knows what he’s doing. With a minute or so of some kissing and making sure all my muscles are relaxed he checks if I’m moist enough.   
With a last glance he asks me if I’m still into it and after I nod, he enters me. Slow and carefully. Under different circumstances I’d have been amazed by the amount of tenderness he is showing me tonight, but the intense feeling deep inside of me suddenly resurfaces, and my skin goes on fire. My always icy fingers are warm now and I burry then in his thick black locks. With a soft tug I encourage him to do it, to enter my body even further. I know I need it, I can feel myself yearning it. And he complies with my needs – slowly he enters me almost completely. My back is arched so sharply that if one of his hands wasn’t around my waist, holding my body pressed against his, I’d have collapsed down in extreme back pains. With my teeth digging deep into my lower lip, I manage to sustain the pained howl that threatens to escape me any moment now. I don’t want to show pain, don’t want it to spoil the moment.   
“You alright?” his hoarse whisper in my ear elicits a moan from me and I grip his shoulders even harder.  
“Yes.” it’s a low hiss against his cheek, my face at the point of literally burring itself in the crook of his neck.   
He puffs a sigh against my hair and I can literally hear him fighting his instincts to concur me like a caveman would have. Moreover, his touch stays gentle and his movements – slow and careful.  
“I’m no cheap china, Zeus. I won’t break under your touch.” a minute or two later after I finally adjust, I manage to gather my voice and whisper against his neck before nipping at the skin.   
Surely enough the effect is immediate – the primal growl that vibrates from within his chest has my muscles clenching even tighter around his shaft, making him hiss and burry his face in my neck. Still his hips move at a rather slow and agonising pace, for both of us. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know that if I make him move harder and faster, tomorrow I’ll be tied to the bed, probably the days after that as well. But right now, I want nothing else as desperately as to feel him even deeper in me, to the hilt, making me his in every way possible.  
“Don’t make me hurt you, I beg of you.” the fact that his voice rings in my head tells me he’s barely holding himself together.  
“You can never hurt me. Don’t torture us.” my purred reply makes him grit his teeth so hard I can hear his jaw popping.   
His persistence for control makes me become adventurous once again and out of the blue I move my hips, breaking his pace, and setting a new one. In a flash the hand that he was leaning on for support grasps me around the right tight and I swear I hear him howl lowly against my skin.   
“Do it, Zeus, please.” my voice in his head, so pleading and thick with desire, is the last drop in his cup.  
I’m suddenly pressed down against the soft mattress with him completely out of me and at a hand’s distance. I swear I yelped and then whined from the loss.  
“Heavens and hells, you’ll end me.” his growls and in a flash bends down and kisses me with wild ferocity before once again entering me, stretching my inner muscles to the brim.   
The shout that passed through my sealed lips surely reached the heavens and dropped to the hells. Zeus freezes and by the sudden tension in his muscles I know he’s thinking the worst.  
“I swear, if you stop I’ll kill you.” I hiss though gritted teeth.  
His head is bent over my shoulder, and his shallow breathing makes me groan and rotate my hips once again. He inhales sharply, not expecting this again, and I bite my lip in order to stop myself from both moaning and chuckling. ‘God, he’s so deep in me.’ the thought passes so spontaneously that I almost miss it.   
Zeus’ next movement is unexpected, but in a good way. He pulls away and enters me fast and all at once. I moan loudly and my nails dig into his shoulders, making him groan against my neck. Soon we find our own paces – he’s still reluctant to move faster, but at least is deeper. By the time I feel like I’m about to burst around the seams he stops and the animalistic growl that erupts from within me would have sure made a normal man pale like a ghost. Zeus just kisses me deeply and spins us. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m straddling him, shock making my blood freeze in my veins.  
“Now it’s up to you to determine the pace.” he’s smiling as he kisses my throat, sensing my nervousness.   
“I… I don’t… I don’t know…” I stammer, seriously having no clue what to do.  
“Do what you desire. I’m yours for the taking.” Looking me straight in the eyes, I see the sincerity in his words and gulp.  
To show me what do to after my obvious shutdown, he places his hands on my waist and lowers my body so that the tip of his shaft is at my entrance. His lips keep on doing their magic for a second more before Zeus lies down, with his hands still on my hips, more to balance me rather than determine further pace or action. So I decide to let my natural copulation instincts do their work. Not really keen to hurt myself, I undertake the slow, testing approach first. And, sweet heavens, it’s like a whole new level of deepness. I literally feel his member filling me the brim. Droplets of sweat run down my back when I pull myself up and from an old habit flip my hair over one shoulder. And suddenly an idea spins like a small smirch in my head. ‘To hell with it!’ I’m either brave or am heading head first the nympho way. Either way I peek at him under half-lidded eyes and order myself not to close them. Our eyes meet a fraction of the second before I quickly push my hips down. The reaction from both of us is immediate. Zeus throws his head back, arching his back slightly, his hands gripping my hips, and moans-groans. I somehow manage to marvel for a second at the way his Adam apple moves up and down and how nicely his jet black hair is sprawled all over my white pillow, before my own moan engulfs his and I throw my head back, also arching my back. Again, due to his fast reaction and his hands’ support, he catches me from falling back. Now sitting upright, with his face resting in the valley of my breasts, I can only feel his ragged breathing over the erratic banging of my hearth all over my skin; in my ears and even through my hair. I vaguely hear Zeus murmuring some words to me, probably asking if I’m still alive, and I nod, before my head lulls back forward and our foreheads touch. We are both panting, our eyes glossy and blazing, and we both know what we want. And since I showed him I’m a tough little ex-virgin, he smirks and tips his head so that we kiss, our tongues battling for dominance. Soon enough I start moving and his hips meet mine halfway. The friction and the constant touching of his hands have me at the verge, yet he doesn’t let me come. Whenever he feels me contacting around him, he stops and starts doing something else as if to tale my mind of the urgent matter at hand.   
By the third or fourth time I’m at the verge of tears from all the pressure that needs to go; the hand that’s still buried on his locks grabs a fistful of hair and pulls, so that we meet for another kiss. He shows his disapproval of my harshness by grabbing me by the bum and slamming me hard against his shaft. That way his hiss and my moan mix and I’m one step closer to explosion.  
“Zeus…” my lips mutter his name as a plea.  
Yet he doesn’t quicken the pace, nor does he show any sign of allowing me my release. My whimper is what catches his attention, making him look up from his current obsession with my neck.  
“Patience is a virtue, dear. “ even his thoughts sound thick with emotion and panting, as if he has been running a marathon. “This is your little punishment.” with that and a cocky smirk he suddenly moves, changing the position.  
I’m lifted, and my ankles lock behind his back, my hands grip his shoulders for support and my chest firmly presses against his.   
“What..!?” I meekly whisper when I realise my weight alongside with his is solely balanced on his legs.  
He is in a squatting position on my bed, basically about to fall over, but I’m relieved when one of his hands ends up against the wall for support. Now he is holding me up with one hand and I’m about to argue against this dangerous and unconventional position when our eyes meet. And I’m both breathless and speechless – for a first time I see the blue in them so intense and consistent, so sparkling and a real whirlpool of emotions, primal which is desire.  
“Ready?” his hoarse voice makes me clench around him tighter and he growls with pleasure.   
And then I’m delivered what I ordered. He’s fast, by the human standards at least, and deep into me with a single trust. I only manage to moan before he’s out and in again. The cycle repeats and with every single trust I get louder, grip his shoulders firmer and feel some sort of connection form between us. By the time I’m nearing my release, images flash in front of my closed eyelids, not my fantasises but his. He’s pounding hard and I’m screaming with pleasure, my nails leaving red marks down his back. His face is buried in my neck, yet I feel his hot breath burning through my skin. The end is like I imagine an atomic explosion – out of nowhere, without a warning, and undermines your foundations, leaving you to fall apart. That’s what happens – my release hits me like a tidal wave, and if it wasn’t for Zeus I’d have fallen off of my own bed, probably breaking something. Yet he keeps me pressed against his chest, his own release not as noisy as mine, which is probably heard all around the city, but just as powerful. We are holding onto one another for support, the other being the only thing real enough to keep us at one-piece. 

When I can finally breathe, I’m lying on my back. For a fraction of the second I think I imagined the whole thing, yet the strange feeling between my thighs and the just as ragged breathing close by prove me wrong. Turning my head to the side, and a second later my whole body, I look at Zeus. He is lying on his stomach, his face calm and at ease with no stress present. Somehow I’m not impressed when he just peeks at me and after making sure I’m fine closes his eyes and dozes off. ‘So it is true that men fall asleep right after sex! And I thought it a fable.’ Chuckling to myself I use the occasion to admire his body. Yet my expedition is cut short when I notice the red marks on his back. In a flash I’m up, my own pain forgotten and buried away, my whole existence focused on Zeus. His muscular back is now covered in long claw-like marks. The skin is mostly irritated, but there are places where it is bleeding.   
“Holy fucking…” I whisper and manage to crawl out of the bed before limping to the bathroom where I grab a towel and wet it under the running water.   
On the way back I throw on my T-shirt before stopping by the god’s sleeping form. With the wet towel I brush away the blood. In his sleep he hisses but doesn’t wake up. To my amazement a minute later the wounds are beginning to close and the red marks are gone. I have to admit that upon completely disappearing, a feat of disappointment strikes me. Secretly I wished he’ll have a mark from me. Just like I probably have from him. Shaking the silliness away and finding my way back to the bathroom I opt for a quick shower.  
The warm water does miracles to my suddenly sore muscles, yet I know tomorrow I’ll probably need a caretaker and a wheelchair if I want food or water or pretty much anything for that matter. However, that doesn’t bother me even the slightest bit. Right now I just want to get the sweat off of me and go cuddle near Zeus.  
“Mind if I join?” the sudden voice startles me and I almost slip.  
Quick with the reflexes, the god of thunder catches me and steadies me on the two jelly sticks that are currently playing the role of my legs.  
“Suit yourself.” I smirk and go for my bath sponge but, again, he is faster and grabs hold of it before me.  
“Since you are so generous to offer, I shall.” he gives me his coy smirk, making me chuckle.  
His movements prove to be gentle and caring once again as he washes my body.   
“You know, it’s quite unfair that your marks healed in the span of 5 minutes while I’ll have to wear a scarf if I don’t want people to think I have an abusive boyfriend.” I muse while he gently cleans my legs, his concentration unbreakable.  
“I’m sorry for marking you.” he whispers without looking at me.  
“I’m not. Just sorry yours faded. I’d have stroked my ego to know that I left you a little bit less perfect for an hour or two. Not 5 minutes.”  
His response is in the form of laughter and a shake of his head, making his slightly damp hair bounce.   
“God, I love that hair.” I whisper.  
“Ah, glad to hear.” he responds and I roll my eyes. 

After we are both showered and dried, and after a quick argument whether I should put at least a T-shit on, we go to bed and lay down, naked. I’m a snuggler by nature, so when I near him cautiously, he glances at me with the corner of his eye.  
“Not the cuddle type?” I whisper, too tired to even raise my voice.  
Instead of a response, I feel his hands embrace me and pull me closer to his chest. After comfortably nested near him and conveniently stealing his warmth, I remember I had to ask him a question.  
“Do gods ever sweat?”  
The rumble in his chest can be nothing else but a silent laugh.   
“I’ll take that as a ‘no’. “  
Feeling secure in his embrace, I let my lids close, and my mind shut down.


End file.
